


This I Know to Be True

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, there is a truth worth holding on to. Set in an AU S7, post-Help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This I Know to Be True

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Art-a-Thon at the Livejournal community, good__evil. You be the judge. Props to alwaysjbj for providing the inspiration via her beautiful banner

Buffy followed the stairs down to the basement of the high school. “Spike?”

 

There was no response, not that she had really expected one. Spike had been strange since the moment he’d reappeared—crazy one moment, lucid the next, and yet ever helpful. Dawn even claimed to have caught glimpses of him now and again when she stayed after school to study in the library.

 

Something was haunting him, something related to the Hellmouth, no doubt. Buffy wished she knew whose bright idea it had been to build the new high school in the old location. She had many happy daydreams planning out exactly what she would do to show them the error of their ways.

 

“Spike? Come on, we need to talk!” She turned to survey the hallway, which she could have sworn had moved. “And I really don’t want to do it here!”

 

There was still nothing.

 

“Dammit, Spike,” Buffy muttered angrily. “Why does everything have to be so hard with you?”

 

She paused at an unfamiliar doorway; she was certain that she’d never seen it before on her clandestine trips to the school basement to leave tubs of blood. Buffy didn’t know if Spike had found them, but at least she’d done something. It had soothed her conscience—until now.

 

Now, she had to get him out. Buffy knew better than to leave him for the ghosts, or whatever it was haunting the high school.

 

Or maybe it was Spike doing the haunting. All Buffy knew was that Dawn had told her that the kids were beginning to dare one another to go down to the basement to prove their mettle, and that was not a good idea for anyone, not even the Slayer.

 

The doorway she now faced was different than any other she’d seen, however. Gone were the steel doorjambs and heavy fire doors, and she touched the rough stone, feeling a tingling in her fingers as she broke through the barrier.

 

“Spike?” Ahead, through the inky darkness, Buffy caught sight of a bright spot that could only be Spike’s newly bleached hair.

 

Without thinking about it, she strode forward, stopping abruptly five paces in when all light was gone, and she couldn’t see so much as her hand in front of her face. “Spike!”

 

There was still no reply, and Buffy turned carefully, her hands out in front of her, trying to prevent herself from running smack into a wall. Instead of walls, or the rough opening she’d felt just a few seconds before, there was nothing but empty space.

 

“Spike!” She was beginning to grow panicked, and she realized that she was hopelessly turned around, with no idea whether she was facing out, toward the school basement, or—well, into wherever she had followed Spike.

 

She stopped, taking a deep breath to calm herself, remembering her training. Giles had made her train with a blindfold on, and this was no different. Buffy closed her eyes to better concentrate, and began to turn slowly, focusing on the movement of the air and the smells, since she couldn’t see anything.

 

After a moment, she chose a direction and began to walk slowly, her hands outstretched in front of her, saying a silent prayer that she not hit anything.

 

It felt like forever, but was likely only a few minutes later, when she stopped abruptly, hearing a splash underfoot.

 

“Crap,” she muttered, looking down. There was a little more light now, and while she couldn’t pinpoint the source, it was enough to see by. The narrow tunnel she had been walking through had opened up into a huge cavern, and what looked like an underground river barred her passage. Although the water was flowing sluggishly, there was no way to tell how deep it was.

 

Besides, she didn’t feel like getting her boots wet.

 

Buffy might have turned around and headed for home, but she caught sight of Spike again. He was wading across the river about ten yards down to her right. “Spike!” she called. If she could just get his attention, they could both turn around and go home.

 

He was halfway across when she called out, and he continued on as though he couldn’t hear her. “Damn you, Spike,” Buffy hissed, then felt a shudder run through her, realizing that given where she was, she probably ought to be a little more careful about her language.

 

Seeing him reach the other side without going much above his knees, Buffy took a deep breath and splashed in after him. “Spike!” she tried calling again, getting the same non-reaction as before.

 

Moving as quickly as she could through the water, Buffy soon reached the other side. She had seen Spike go through the tunnel opening on the far right, and she followed him in, not stopping to ask herself what she was doing.

 

This tunnel wasn’t quite as long; she could see dim light at the end of it from the first. Buffy hurried along as fast as she dared, not wanting to break a leg.

 

When she emerged, it was into a chamber that looked like something from a movie. Torches lit the room, leaving flickering shadows that danced across vine-covered pillars. Something about it all sent a shiver down her spine.

 

With a sense of relief, Buffy spotted Spike on the other side of the room, standing at the entrance to yet another tunnel. “Spike!” she yelled. “Don’t you dare go any farther!”

 

Her voice echoed through the cavern, and Spike whirled to face her, startled. It appeared as though he’d heard her for the first time since she’d started following him. Buffy saw sadness flicker over his face before he walked through the doorway.

 

“Dammit!” Buffy hurried after him, only to find her way suddenly blocked by a huge, muscular demon.

 

Horns curled up on either side of his head, the same steel-gray color of his skin. He held a huge broadsword in front of him, point down, and he stared down menacingly from seven feet. “You don’t belong here.”

 

“What?”

 

“You definitely don’t belong here.” He grimaced. “You stink of heaven. The likes of you aren’t welcome here.”

 

“Where is _here_ exactly?”

 

He appeared surprised that she didn’t already know. “This is hell.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “Okay. But I need to get Spike.”

 

The demon shook his head, looking almost mournful. “Sorry about that, but I can’t let you through. He’s made his choice.”

 

“What choice?” Buffy demanded. “He’s crazy! Out of his mind!” Trying to sound smart, she added, “Clearly, it wasn’t an informed decision.”

 

The demon snorted. “Do you think we care about that?”

 

“Okay, probably not.” Buffy tried to come up with an unassailable argument and couldn’t. “I need to find him.”

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, no can do.”

 

“He’s not dead,” Buffy said, beginning to feel desperate. “Surely you can’t take anybody who’s not dead. Or dust, in his case.”

 

“Like I said, he made his choice.” The demon shifted his weight. “If it makes you feel better, he got tricked into it.”

 

“How?”

 

“He thought he was saving you.”

 

“Of course, he did,” Buffy muttered. “What if I fight you?”

 

The demon coughed. “Excuse me?”

 

“What if I beat you?” She was warming to the subject now. Sure, he was big, but the bigger the demon, the harder the fall.

 

In theory.

 

The demon seemed to consider her question. “Never gonna happen.”

 

“But what if I do?” she persisted. It was her job to save Spike from his own stupidity, and Buffy suspected that the only reason he’d been tricked into heading into hell was because she’d left him in the school basement for too long. She should have known better.

 

The demon cocked his head. “Just who are you?”

 

“I’m the Slayer.”

 

He let out a bark of laughter. “Let me get this straight. A vampire fell in love with the Slayer and agreed to spend eternity in hell to save her.”

 

“He’s not actually saving me, is he?” Buffy demanded, breaking into his incredulity.

 

“No,” the demon admitted cheerfully. “But it was the best way to get him down here. Do you know what souls like his are going for these days?”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “You haven’t answered my question,” she said with carefully restrained anger. There would be time to unleash it later, when she kicked his ass.

 

The demon shrugged. “If—and it’s a big if—you manage to beat me, you win the right to try to find him, but you’ll have to convince him to leave.”

 

“Okay.” Buffy decided that the demon’s sheer size meant that she didn’t have to play fair, and she attacked without warning. The first thing she needed to do was to get rid of the sword, or take it for her own use.

 

The heel of her boot cracked against his hand, and the demon cried out, shaking out the sting in his right hand. Buffy drove the toe of her boot into his inner forearm, and he lost his grip on the sword altogether.

 

She saw the anger kindle in his eyes, and she ducked under his attempted bear hug. If he managed to catch hold of her, he could easily crack her ribs and spine without trying. She rolled, picking up the sword as she did so.

 

Although she had no trouble with the weight, it was much too long to do her any good, and she sent it skidding across the floor to the other side of the room.

 

The next few minutes were a blur of kicks and punches. Now that he’d gotten over his surprise, the demon was surprisingly light on his feet, and Buffy had her hands full trying to prevent him from grabbing her and doing her serious harm. She was trying to do as much damage with as few actual hits as possible, and was trying to wear him out—preferably before she collapsed from exhaustion herself.

 

Buffy finally resorted to a trick that had very little chance of working under normal circumstances. She leaned up against the stone wall and pretended to be bored. “This is really pathetic, you know.”

 

The demon growled and charged. Buffy leapt at the last possible moment, causing the demon to hit the wall with an audible crunch. Buffy kicked him in the head to make sure that he was completely out.

 

“Never happen, huh?” Buffy smirked. “Spike, here I come.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. There were no flames, no incredible heat. Instead, it was cold, gray, and dim. There was no sign of color, and no sign of life.

 

“Spike?”

 

There was still no response, and Buffy began to wonder if Spike was there at all, or if she was going crazy. Maybe this was all a figment of her imagination.

 

“Spike!”

 

There was still no answer, and Buffy wandered through a gray, featureless plain. Smoke of some sort was low on the floor, curling around her ankles in thin tendrils that somehow made her movements more difficult. The mist appeared insubstantial, but she found her steps slowing.

 

“You won’t find him in this mess.”

 

Buffy turned, seeing what looked like the same gray-skinned demon she’d just knocked unconscious. “You said I could look for Spike if I beat you.”

 

“My twin may have told you that,” the demon replied. “I didn’t.”

 

“Twin, huh?” Buffy went back to her search, ignoring the demon’s presence. He hadn’t threatened her yet, and he didn’t have a weapon that she could see.

 

“You won’t find him.”

 

“You said that already.” Buffy pushed onward. “I have to try.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“You’re looking for a vampire in hell.” Buffy turned to face the demon, who appeared genuinely puzzled. “You’re a Slayer. Why would you care?”

 

“Because I do.” Buffy was getting a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “He’s helped me out in the past.”

 

“And you followed him into hell.” There was patent disbelief in the demon’s voice. “After what he did to you.”

 

Buffy felt tears spring into her eyes at the sudden reminder. It was something she tried to forget, and she generally succeeded. “It was complicated.”

 

“There’s nothing complicated about rape. It’s one of the reasons people end up down here.”

 

“He didn’t hurt me,” Buffy protested.

 

“He broke your trust.”

 

“You always hurt the ones you love.” Buffy heard the echo of Spike’s words in her ear. “And I hurt him, too.”

 

She realized what the implication was of putting those two sentences side by side in the next moment, but Buffy had no intention of taking it back.

 

While she might not be in love with Spike, Buffy felt something for him—something that might be love in time.

 

A faint smile played around the demon’s lips. “I see. So you’re one of those women who likes abuse.”

 

“I’m one of those women who will kick your ass,” Buffy shot back. “I came down here to find Spike and haul him out, so if you won’t help me, then get the hell out of my way.”

 

“You’re standing on him.”

 

Buffy took two quick steps back, looking down. The mist had cleared slightly, and she could see through the ceiling of a room where Spike crouched in a corner. She blinked and realized that she was looking into the school basement, at one of the dark corners where Spike was most likely to be found.

 

“How do I get in there?”

 

“You don’t. Haven’t you been listening?”

 

Buffy ignored him, focusing on Spike and getting through the glass or whatever it was separating them. She stomped, but the action sent a ripple of pain up her leg, and she knew that wasn’t going to work. Kneeling on the ground, she hit the clear surface experimentally and met the same results.

 

“There has to be an entrance around here somewhere.” Now that Buffy knew where Spike was, it was just a matter of finding a way of getting to him.

 

She didn’t want to move too far away. Going ten feet in any direction resulted in more mist, and a fear that she wouldn’t be able to find Spike in the featureless plain. After a fruitless search for an entrance of some sort, Buffy was ready to give up, and yet she couldn’t just walk away.

 

How could she leave Spike in hell after that last year when he had saved her life any number of times just by being there?

 

“I’m not leaving you, you stupid vampire!” Buffy shouted in frustration.

 

She blinked, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Unless she was imagining things, a tiny hairline fracture had appeared in the barrier separating her from Spike.

 

“Spike!” she shouted, but he remained lost in his own world, rocking gently in the dark, gray cell. The crack, if it was there, remained the same.

 

Buffy pounded on the barrier ineffectually and swore, a tear rolling down her cheek  and falling to the floor.

 

This time, there was no mistaking the lengthening crack, and Buffy sucked in a breath. “Spike?” she whispered, ignoring the swearing demon behind her. She somehow knew that he presented no threat. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t get you out  on my own.”

 

She watched the crack grow once again, and Buffy frowned, a theory beginning to form. She swallowed, then spoke her next words, testing her theory. “I need to try again.”

 

A spider web of fractures appeared, and she knew she had discovered the solution. Truth—and real emotion—could break through the barrier.

 

It was not an easy solution to embrace, given how long it had been since she was honest with herself or anyone else.

 

How much honesty would she have to give, and was it worth it?

 

“You’re not going to be able to get through.”

 

“I’ve cracked it, and I know what it’s going to take.”

 

“Absolute honesty?” There was disbelief in the demon’s voice. “Even if you manage to break through, you won’t talk him out of here. He’s nuts, remember? He believes he’s saving you, and he thinks he deserves this.” The demon smirked. “Go on. Dredge up every shred of honesty you might still have. It won’t do him any good. There’s no saving that one.”

 

“Shut up,” Buffy said furiously. “Spike never gave up on me. I’m not giving up on him.”

 

There was an audible creak as the cracks grew, and Buffy stifled the gasp of glee that threatened to escape. Almost—she was so close now.

 

“I wish you could hear me because I came to get you out of the basement,” Buffy said, speaking quickly now that her theory had been proven, and she knew what was required to get Spike out. “I’m not leaving you in hell. This isn’t completely your fault. I was a part of the relationship, too.”

 

As she spoke, Buffy felt the ground beneath her weakening, and she let out a squeak as she crashed through, landing in a heap right in front of Spike.

 

“Oof.”

 

Spike didn’t even look up, his forehead still on his knees.

 

“Okay, Spike. This is really not cool.”

 

Buffy wanted to beg, or shake him out of it, or just do _something_ so that he would follow her out of there, so that she—they—could go home. “Crap.” When he still refused to look up, Buffy grabbed his arm, trying to haul him up. She would carry him out of there.

 

Spike didn’t budge, and she heard the demon’s voice call down from above. “You can’t carry him out. You’ll have to get him to leave of his own free will, since that’s how he got here in the first place.”

 

“You tricked him!” Buffy exclaimed indignantly.

 

The demon shrugged and retreated. “He still made his choice, unwise though it might have been.”

 

Over the next few minutes, Buffy did everything she could think of to simply get Spike’s attention. She begged, she pleaded, she tugged at him. She even went so far as to apologize for leaving him in the alley after beating him to a pulp.

 

His only reaction through it all was to mutter that he was dirty, that he had to save the girl, that he deserved his punishment. At least, that was the gist of it, since there was a lot more in there that Buffy couldn’t understand.

 

“Fine!” she cried. “I told you, I’m not leaving without you, so I guess I’m going to be stuck in hell, too. How’s that for irony? You willingly walk into hell to save me, and you end up dooming both of us.”

 

She plopped down in front of him, weary to the bone, mirroring his position. Buffy wasn’t actually sure that she _could_ stay, but she knew she couldn’t leave.

 

Buffy had no idea how long the silence went on. It might have been minutes, or days, or even years. She tried not to think about the fact that time in hell dimensions can pass at a very different rate than in her own.

 

He was the one to break the silence. “Slayer?” Spike was looking at her now, his blue eyes almost lucid, a fearful expression on his face. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

 

“Well, neither are you,” Buffy replied stubbornly. “So, I guess it’s up to you to save me.”

 

“I can’t,” he said mournfully, still not sounding quite sane.

 

“Yes, you can.” She made her voice as forceful as she could. “How many times have you saved me in the past? Remember Sweets? The dancing demon? I would have burned to death if you hadn’t been there.”

 

She thought she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes, and she pressed onward, wondering if convincing Spike to walk out of hell with her would take the same things that getting through the barrier had. “You saved Dawn’s life,” she added. “You could have told Glory that she was the Key, and you didn’t.”

 

Spike’s head was cocked in an attitude of attention, and she forged on. “You kept trying, even when I pushed you away.”

 

It was the wrong thing to say, Buffy knew that as soon as the words left her lips. Spike shuddered and began rocking again, murmuring something that sounded like, “Hurt the girl. Mustn’t hurt the girl. I’ll be caned for sure.”

 

Buffy stared at him helplessly. “That’s not what I meant, Spike,” she hastened to assure him, grabbing his hands tightly. “I’ve forgiven you.”

 

She didn’t know that she meant it until the words left her mouth, but Buffy could taste the truth. “I forgive you, Spike,” she repeated, meaning every syllable this time, knowing somehow that those words would do the trick.

 

They had to. She didn’t have anything else to offer, not yet.

 

“I don’t deserve—”

 

“That’s not what forgiving someone is about.” Buffy knew this for a fact; she’d had to forgive so many people, look past so many betrayals. Had Willow deserved her forgiveness? Had Giles? Did Spike?

 

“Do you trust me, Spike?” Buffy didn’t know how to put any of that into words. All she could ask for was his trust.

 

Spike seemed to search her face, and Buffy couldn’t tell if he was still in the grip of madness, or if this was one of his rare lucid moments.

 

“Yes.”

 

The word, spoken so precisely and without any doubt, made Buffy smile. She only wished that she was worthy of his trust. “Then I need you to follow me out of here. We’re going home.”

 

Spike cocked his head to the side again, weighing her words, and Buffy held her breath. “Alright.”

 

She let out a sigh of relief, looking up at the opening, about ten feet above her head. “Give me a leg up?”

 

Spike obediently scrambled to his feet. For a moment, they stood silently, regarding each other, until he bent slightly and laced his fingers together. Buffy put her foot into his cupped hands, and he tossed her up. She landed lightly, then leaned over the edge, putting her hand down for him. “Come on, Spike.”

 

She saw him hesitate, but only for a second. Although she suspected that he could leap out if he chose, she wanted to make it clear that she was there to rescue him in every way possible. Buffy hauled him up, and when they were both on solid ground, she turned to find both demons standing in her way.

 

“You can’t stop us,” she insisted. “We’re leaving.”

 

The demons spoke in unison. “He’ll be back.”

 

“Not if I can help it,” Buffy replied fiercely. “Now, out of my way.” With a firm grip on Spike’s arm, Buffy towed the vampire along behind her, brushing past the demons.

 

The gray mist was gone, and she forced herself not to look down into small, gray cells that held others—people, demons, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t bear the thought that Spike might have been trapped in one of those rooms forever if she hadn’t seen him disappear, or if she had chosen not to follow him.

 

When they finally emerged into the large antechamber, after wading across the shallow river once again, Buffy paused for a brief moment, switching her grip from Spike’s arm to his hand. “Are you okay?” she asked. He’d been silent for the entire trip.

 

Spike’s blue eyes were wary as they focused on her, and for the first time, Buffy realized that he was wearing his old clothes—not the blue shirt, or some other scavenged articles of clothing, but his jeans and t-shirt and duster.

 

She hadn’t registered that fact until now, so intent had she been on getting him out of there. Buffy knew how he’d gotten it; she had left it in a box, in the basement, near the corner where he could normally be found.

 

Buffy had thought—had hoped—that having the duster would help to bring him back to himself, but seeing him now, she knew that appearances meant nothing. Spike might _look_ like his old self, but the lingering madness in his eyes demonstrated what a lie that was.

 

“Are you okay?” she repeated, a little desperately. She wanted him to lie to her, to say that he was fine, that everything would be okay. Buffy had used up her stock of truth for the day.

 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied thoughtfully. “Can we leave?”

 

There was a hint of wistfulness in his tone, a plaintive note that made him sound more like a little boy than a master vampire. Buffy nodded and squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

 

~~~~~

 

When Buffy opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Spike’s clear blue eyes—full of awe and bemused anxiety.

 

For a moment, she couldn’t remember how he’d come to share her bed, although she wasn’t angry or uncomfortable. He was fully dressed—except for his duster, belt, and boots—and she was wearing a set of cotton pajamas that covered her completely. It felt natural to be lying next to him.

 

The events of the previous night came rushing back. Buffy had gone to the school to get Spike out, and she had—followed him into hell? Those memories felt surreal, dreamlike, and she wasn’t certain that it had happened in just that way.

 

But she remembered escorting him out of the basement, coaxing him upstairs and into her bedroom. Buffy hadn’t wanted to let him out of her sight, remembering the words of the demon, insisting that Spike would be back. She had meant what she said—not on her watch.

 

“Hi.”

 

“H’lo.”

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

His face screwed up into an expression of puzzlement. “Dunno. Did you mean what you said?”

 

“Yes.” She didn’t have to think twice about it. “You got your soul for me. How could I not?”

 

“What do you want, Buffy?”

 

Buffy understood why he would ask. It had always been about what she wanted from him, nothing more. In the end, what she had wanted—what she hadn’t wanted—had destroyed the tentative beginning they had made when she’d first been resurrected.

 

“I want—I need—to try again.”

 

She saw him swallow. “I don’t know where to start.”

 

He hadn’t refused, and that gave her hope. “I think I do. We start with the truth.” When he didn’t appear convinced, Buffy decided that she had one more piece of truth to offer. “I need you.”

 

And Spike’s sweet, shy smile made her believe that the truth might just save them both.


End file.
